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force the king aside. The white pawn would queen, and mate would follow
in four moves. Mate in nineteen.
She opened her eyes and squinted for a moment at the brightness of the
stage before looking at her clock. She had twelve minutes left. Her eyes had
been closed for over an hour. If she had made an error, there would be no
time for a new strategy. She reached forward and moved the king knight
pawn to the fifth rank. There was a stab of pain in her shoulder as she set it
down; her muscles felt rigid.
Borgov advanced his king to stop the pawn. She advanced the knight,
forcing him to protect. It was going the way she had seen it would go. The
tightness of her body began to loosen, and over the next moves there began
to spread through her a fine sense of calm. She moved the pieces with
deliberate speed, punching the clock firmly after each, and gradually
Borgov’s responses began to slow. He was taking more time between moves
now. She could see uncertainty in the hand that picked up the pieces. When
the threatened hurdle was done with and she inched the pawn to the sixth
rank, she watched his face. His expression did not change but he reached up
and ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it. A thrill passed through her
body.
When she advanced the pawn to the seventh rank, she heard a soft grunt
from him as though she had punched him in the stomach. It took him a long
time to bring the king over to block it.
She waited just a moment before letting her hand move out over the
board. When she picked up the knight the sense of its power in her
fingertips was exquisite. She did not look at Borgov.
When she set the knight down, there was complete silence. After a
moment she heard a letting-out of breath from across the table and looked
up. Borgov’s hair was rumpled and there was a grim smile on his face. He
spoke in English. “It’s your game.” He pushed back his chair, stood up, and
then reached down and picked up his king. Instead of setting it on its side
he held it across the board to her. She stared at it. “Take it,” he said.
The applause began. She took the black king in her hand and turned to
face the auditorium, letting the whole massive weight of the ovation wash
over her. People in the audience were standing, applauding louder and
louder. She received it with her whole body, feeling her cheeks redden with
it and then go hot and wet as the thunderous sound washed away thought.
And then Vasily Borgov was standing beside her, and a moment later to
her complete astonishment he had his arms spread and then was embracing
her, hugging her to him warmly.
***
During the party at the embassy, a waiter came by with a tray of
champagne. She shook her head. Everyone else was drinking and
sometimes toasting her. During the five minutes the ambassador himself
had been there, he offered her champagne and she took club soda. She ate
some black bread with caviar and answered questions. There were over a
dozen reporters and several Russians. Luchenko was there, looking
beautiful again, but she was disappointed Borgov hadn’t come.
It was still midafternoon, and she had not had lunch. She felt weightless
and tired, somehow disembodied. She had never liked parties and even
though she was the star of this one, she felt out of place. Some of the people
from the embassy looked at her strangely, as though she were an oddity.
They kept telling her that they weren’t clever enough to play chess or that
they had played chess when they were kids. She didn’t want to hear any
more of that. She wanted to do something else. She wasn’t sure what it was,
but she wanted to be away from these people.
She pushed through the crowd and thanked the woman from Texas who
was acting as hostess. Then she told Mr. Booth she needed a ride back to
the hotel.
“I’ll get a car and driver,” he said.
Before leaving, she found Luchenko again. He was standing with the
other Russians, dressed impeccably and looking at ease. She held out her
hand. “It was an honor to play you,” she said.
He took the hand and bowed slightly. For a moment she thought he might
kiss it, but he did not. He pressed her hand with both of his. “All this,” he
said. “It’s not like chess at all.”
She smiled. “That’s right.”
***
The embassy was on Ulitsa Tchaikovskogo, and it was a half-hour drive,
some of it through dense traffic, to her hotel. She had seen almost nothing
of Moscow, and she would be leaving in the morning, but she did not feel
like looking out the windows. They had given her the trophy and the money
after the game. She had done her interviews, had received her
congratulations. Now she felt at loose ends, uncertain where to go or what
to do. Maybe she could sleep for a while, eat a quiet supper and go to bed
early. She had beaten them. She had beaten the Russian establishment, had
beaten Luchenko, Shapkin and Laev, had forced Borgov to resign. In two
years she could be playing Borgov for the World Championship. She had to
qualify first by winning the candidates match, but she could win it. A
neutral place would be chosen, and she would meet Borgov, head to head,
for a twenty-four-game match. She would be twenty-one then. She did not
want to think about it now. She closed her eyes and dozed in the back of the
limousine.
When she looked out, sleepily, they were stopped at a traffic signal. Up
ahead, to the right, was the forested park that was visible from her room.
She shook herself awake and leaned forward to the driver. “Let me off at
the park.”
Sunlight filtered through the trees on her. The people on the benches
seemed to be the same people as before. It did not matter whether they
knew who she was or not. She walked past them along the path into the
clearing. Nobody was looking at her. She came to the pavilion and walked
up the steps.
About halfway down the first row of concrete tables an old man was
sitting alone with the pieces set up in front of him. He was in his sixties and
wore the usual gray cap and gray cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
When she stopped at his table he looked at her inquisitively, but there was
no recognition on his face. She sat behind the black pieces and said
carefully in Russian, “Would you like to play chess?”
Document Outline - Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Author's Note
- Contents
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
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